


Creep

by Anonymous



Series: Is this thing (an)on? [6]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: M/M, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 15:44:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Written for prompt:Protective!Tony, Someone else creeps on Peter. Tony does not like it.Originally prompted & postedhere.





	Creep

 

“ _This one, I like him._ ”

“No no no, you don’t,” the man says. “We talked about this, remember?”

“Dude, are you okay? You look a little… gross, to be honest.”

Peter realizes a moment too late it might not be the best idea to insult the guy, given the situation, but it’s true. The guy’s skin is nearly gray, and there are clear sweat stains around his neck and armpits.

The guy glances over at where Peter is perched on the side of the building, a few yards away.

“ _Don’t worry, he looks stringy. Not good for eating._ ”

“Not good for uh - what?” Peter says.

The guy leans back against the side of the building, closing his eyes. “That’s a relief. Can we get down from here now?”

“ _Jump._ ”

“No.”

“ _Then stop whining, Eddie. I enjoy the view._ ”

Peter doesn’t know what’s going on, but he takes advantage of the guy’s momentary distraction to slip closer. They’re forty stories in the air, and if the guy starts to fall right now Peter’s not sure he’s close enough yet to catch him, even with a web.

“Hold on, you’re not talking about the city, are you?” the guy says, apparently to himself.

“ _No,_ ” the other voice responds.

“I thought you said he was stringy?”

“ _His form is attractive._ ”

“Oh god,” the guy drags a hand down his face, “that’s better than wanting to eat him, I guess. Can we not do this right now?”

“ _You’re the one who refused to continue pursuing Annie._ ”

“She asked me not to. Besides, she has a boyfriend.”

“ _We could’ve eaten him._ ”

Peter inches closer. The guy - Eddie, clearly isn’t doing well. Peter can’t wrap his head around most of the conversation, except that apparently someone’s boyfriend had almost been eaten? Which, yikes.  Mr. Stark never talked about what to do in this kind of situation, but Peter figures getting them to the ground safely would be a good start.

“Hey buddy, how about we take this conversation somewhere else?”

“ _Fantastic idea._ ”

Eddie jerks forward, tipping over the edge, eyes widened in surprise and no small amount of terror. Peter shoots a web to one of the guy’s hands and braces himself, ready for the full weight of the guy’s falling body to slam through his arm.

Except, it doesn’t.

Looking down, the guy’s other hand has transformed into some huge, claw-like thing that’s literally dug into the concrete side of the building. Eddie brings his other hand - the webbed up one - in front of his face, looking at it in bemusement.

Without warning that same hand twists, wrapping a fist around the web and yanking Peter off the wall.

“Hey - !”

Peter flings another web without a second thought, catching on the ledge and yanking himself back towards the building. He just barely manages to avoid crashing into Eddie as he plants his feet.

But it doesn’t matter; by that point Eddie’s whole body has transformed into something unrecognizable - huge and oil-slick and menacing. The thing wraps an arm around Peter’s waist and bounds down the building, Peter’s web snapping free of its hold on the ledge.

The movement is dizzying; Peter is plenty used to swinging around the city, but he’s always been in control there. This is nothing like that. It’s violent - barely contained, animalistic.

All Peter can do is hang on for the ride. He’s pretty sure Eddie is still somewhere inside the thing, and he already looked pretty sick, so Peter doesn’t want to risk doing anything that would hurt him further.

On the upside, at least they’re heading towards the ground.

They end up in an abandoned warehouse, because of course they do. Peter represses a shudder, twisting his way out of the thing’s grasp, which seems to stretch and almost liquify itself to stay wrapped around his body.

An enormous, pointed tongue darts out and licks all the way from Peter’s neck to the crown of his head. Peter can feel the rapidly-cooling saliva seep through the fabric of his mask.

“Ugh, gross what is this thing?!” Peter says, trying to peel his hand free.

“ _He is strong._ ” The thing sounds oddly pleased.

“Um thanks, I think?”

The monstrous form peels back from Eddie’s head and torso, leaving Eddie shaking his head like a fly-weight boxer trying to recover from a direct hit.

“No offense buddy, but you should probably get out of here,” he says.

“I’m not leaving you here with - seriously, what the heck is this thing?”

“It’s nothing. I got a parasite.”

“So how do we get it off?!”

“ _Now there’s a good question._ ”

“ _No_ , it definitely isn’t,” Eddie says emphatically.

It takes Peter longer than it probably should to catch the meaning there. To be fair, in the last ten minutes or so, his day had gotten very, very weird. And is still getting weirder by the second.

His squirming only seems to spur the thing on, gooey tendrils reaching out, snaking around his arms and torso. Smaller tendrils are ghosting over his suit, seemingly searching for a way in. It doesn’t hurt, but it constricts his movements just enough that Peter’s pulse is racing. He doesn’t like feeling trapped.

“Can you make it stop?” Peter asks, growing desperate.

“Very rarely,” Eddie replies. He twists his shoulders, trying to dislodge his own transformed arms from where they’re wrapped around Peter. “He’s kind of an asshole, to be honest.”

“ _If I’m an asshole, so are you._ ”

“I’m not an asshole.”

“ _Are too._ ”

Peter manages to tear away two of the larger tendrils, but three more sprout instantly and wind their way back around him.

“Great, okay. Can you tell me what it wants from me?” Peter asks.

“I’d really rather not.”

At that, an ear-shattering screech fills the room. The gooey thing contracts, and Eddie collapses on the floor. Peter himself isn’t much better off, clutching his head and desperately wishing his super-hearing wasn’t quite so acute.

The sound cuts off after a minute, leaving behind a ringing in Peter’s ears.

“Peter, answer -e, y... okay?” he can make out through the pounding in his head.

Peter squints up to find Iron Man crouched over him. He shakes his head, trying to clear it.

“Mis - er Stark? Are you here-here or somewhere-else here?” he asks, still a bit fuzzy.

“I’m here, kid.” The faceplate retracts, Mr. Stark’s face appearing in front of him. He’s patting him down, turning Peter’s head from side to side, checking for something, Peter’s not sure what.

“Is Eddie okay?”

“Of course you made friends with it,” Mr. Stark mutters.

“You don’t understand, there’s a guy in there, he’s sick - ”

“I know, Pete, I got it. We’re gonna take care of Eddie, I just need to make sure I didn’t accidentally fry your brain first.”

“I’m fine.”

Peter reaches up to push Mr. Stark’s armored hands away, trying to sit up. Mr. Stark shifts his grip to Peter’s arm, his other hand coming up to rest against his back.

Eddie is spread out on the floor, unconscious, surrounded by some kind of glowing blue shield.

“What the heck was that noise?” Peter asks.

“Ultrasonic LRAD. It’s new, probably needs more testing to iron out the kinks. A way to narrow the field of impact would be a good idea, I’m thinking.”

“Yeah, you can count me out on helping you with that one.”

Mr. Stark grimaces. “I figured.”

Minutes later a swarm of people arrive - Peter isn’t sure if they’re technically Stark Industries employees or SHIELD agents, but it doesn’t really matter, since either way they all seem to take orders from Mr. Stark. Eddie is still unconscious as they load him onto a stretcher and roll him into the back of a helicopter that’s waiting out in the parking lot. Peter stumbles after to watch, and Mr. Stark follows along with him, his hand never leaving Peter’s back.

“Where are they taking him?”

“Hopefully launching him back into space where he belongs.”

“Mr. Stark!”

“Kidding, obviously. They’re taking him to the compound to run some tests, figure out what’s going on.”

“He said he had a parasite - ”

“I heard.”

“Wait, how did you know to come here, anyway?”

“Your heartbeat spiked when that thing pulled you off the building. I had FRIDAY patch into KAREN to see what was going on.”

“You’re saying you track me every time my heartbeat spikes?”

“Technically it was a combination of your altitude, projected velocity, _and_ heartbeat. But, yes.”

“I’ve gotta say, that feels like a pretty big violation of privacy.”

“Deal with it.”

Mr. Stark flies Peter back to the compound, over Peter’s objections. Although to be honest, he doesn’t actually object all that hard. Partially because flying with Mr. Stark is freaking awesome, but also because he wants to be there to check up on Eddie. He calls Aunt May on the way up to let her know where he’s going, that he might not be back until late.

When they arrive at the compound, Mr. Stark disengages his suit and doesn’t miss a beat before he’s marching Peter down to Medical to get checked out.

“I said I was fine.”

“I’m sure you are. The Doc is just going to poke around a little to make sure,” Tony replies, in a tone that clearly brooks no argument.

Peter resigns himself to getting penlights shone in his eyes and ears, some kind of handheld scanner thingy waved over his body, and a tongue depressor shoved in his mouth for no reason he can decipher.

“Id hurd my earsh, nod my throad,” he tries to object.

The doctor grins at him apologetically. “I know. But Mr. Stark ordered a full workup.”

“Ugh.”

Twenty minutes later he’s granted a clean bill of health (obviously) and ends up wandering around Medical, looking for Eddie to make sure he’s really okay. As far as he can tell though, all the beds are empty. There are a few locked doors, but unless they’ve been completely soundproofed inside, Peter figures they must be empty too, since he can’t hear anything.

“Hey FRIDAY, where did they take Eddie?”

“I’m sorry Peter, that information is classified.”

Peter kicks at the wall. Not hard enough to do any damage, just enough to vent a little frustration. He knows from past experience that there was no way to talk FRIDAY into divulging classified intel. It was part of Mr. Stark’s _TV-MA: Mature Audiences Only_ protocol.

He tries another tactic. “O-okay, can you tell me where Mr. Stark is?”

“He is still present in the compound.”

“Where in the compound?”

“I’m sorry Peter, that is also classified.”

That could only really mean one thing. If Mr. Stark was just in his lab or his personal quarters, FRIDAY would’ve told him. He must be on the other side of the compound, in the maximum security lockdown area, and that must be where they’re keeping Eddie. Peter’s never been inside, but he knows where it is.

He’s only been pacing outside the entrance for a few minutes before Mr. Stark appears, looking harried and slightly pissed off. His expression turns to exasperation when he sees Peter.

“Is Eddie okay?” Peter heads off whatever Mr. Stark was about to say.

“He and his little friend are both fine, they’re resting.” Mr. Stark almost sounds regretful about that first part.

“Can I see him?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What, why not? You said he was resting.”

Mr. Stark lays a hand on Peter’s shoulder, turning him away from the lockdown building and back towards the main compound. They both start walking.

“Yes, he is. And he’s going to stay that way for a while, and you’re not going anywhere near him until his friend can learn to keep his oily hands - and all other various appendages - to himself.”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

He’s not going to argue with that. He could definitely do without getting licked by that thing again. Peter shudders at the memory. Mr. Stark tightens his grip on Peter’s shoulder in response, glancing over at him.

They don’t really talk about it any further, but Peter doesn’t miss that Mr. Stark doesn’t leave him alone the rest of the day. They work in the lab for a while, only stopping briefly when their takeout arrives. They spread the various containers out over the coffee table, sitting thigh to thigh on the couch, swapping containers back and forth between them as they eat.

“Hey Mr. Stark, was that thing really from space, like you said?”

“That’s our best guess, based on what happened out in California last year at Life Foundation. Eddie was a little out of it when I talked to him, but what he said seems to confirm it.”

“And I guess they’re sensitive to sound?”

Mr. Stark _hms_ in response. One of his hands is tangled up in Peter’s hair, fingers steadily massaging his scalp.

“I should’ve thought about how the LRAD would affect you before I used it. That was stupid. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.” It sounds like every word pains him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Mr. Stark. I mean, it sucked, but I’m okay now.”

“I’ll work on it. There’s got to be a way to direct the impact zone, limit the frequency so that it only affects the alien goo monsters and not you.”

“But it’s okay now, isn’t it? We’re going to help Eddie, and in the meantime I’ll just be careful not to get too close, so I’m not in range.”

“Yeah.”

Peter turns his head to look at Mr. Stark, momentarily dislodging his hand from Peter’s hair.

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“The thing in Eddie isn’t the only one I’m worried about. If more of his kind make it to Earth...”

Peter swallows. “Oh.”“Yeah, ‘oh’.” Mr. Stark lets his hand slip down to the back of Peter’s neck, giving it a squeeze before pulling away.

Peter is disappointed at the loss of contact, but he steels himself, straightening up in his seat.

“I can help.”

Mr. Stark grins back at him. “Then let’s get to work.”  
  


 


End file.
